


teeth ready for sinking

by kastron (decidueye)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/kastron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vampire, a werewolf, a ghost and a witch share an apartment. Really, they should have known they were asking for trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first chapter of an au whose concept is loosely based around the UK series Being Human. i haven't warned for it for reasons which should be obvious, but the opening scene includes a (non-permanent) character death, and reader discretion is advised.

Keiji smells him before he sees him. The stench of blood fills his nostrils and he pales, stopping mid-run and inhaling a stuttered breath. He can taste it, and even as the craving kicks in a cold dread settles in his stomach. The copper feels like ash on his tongue, in his throat; it’s choking him.

His limbs feel heavy as he turns slowly towards Tetsurou, and Keiji can tell that he’s smelled it too. Tetsurou stands stock still, a few metres behind Keiji, eyes wide and hands shaking at his sides. Keiji’s fingers twitch, almost reaching out, but he doesn’t move.

“We have to go to him,” Keiji says. His voice is hoarse. He can’t swallow.

“I don’t want to.”

Tetsurou looks like Keiji feels. He’s shattering, vulnerable, and he stumbles when he takes a step towards Keiji, tears already in his eyes. They don’t have time for this. Keiji sucks in oxygen, counts to three. He grabs Tetsurou’s wrist.

“We have to go to him,” he repeats, beginning to run. Tetsurou is a dead weight, tripping over his own feet, and Keiji supports him until he can run by himself. Instinct always takes over in the end.

They follow the scent around the corner and into a dark alleyway. Keiji can’t see him, and for a second he thinks - hopes - he’s mistaken. But there’s a foot sticking out from behind the dumpster, white sneaker stained red and brown, and Keiji’s breathed in too much of Koutarou to confuse the smell of him with anyone else. His blood smells of caffeine, of meat and too many workouts and an unstoppable life force, fading fast.

Tetsurou whines, anguished, but he’s at the dumpster before Keiji can bring himself to take a step towards it. Keiji watches Tetsurou gasp and crumple, and then he’s gone from view, and Keiji can only hear his soft pleas.

“Come on, Kou...wake up…”

He’s not awake, then. Keiji puts one foot in front of the other, and again. He hears the sound of Tetsurou’s hand on Koutarou’s cheek, and a sob. By the time he reaches the dumpster, Koutarou is groaning softly. He’s covered in blood, and it’s all his own. There’s a gaping hole in his stomach, and Keiji thinks he would have been better off staying unconscious.

His eyes are half closed and glazed over, but he seems to notice Keiji with a smile.

“Where are they?” Keiji asks, voice cold. He needs to destroy the demon that did this.

“The cavalry’s here…” Koutarou says, barely above a whisper. If Keiji’s hearing was human, he wouldn’t have heard him, “Take me, Edward.”

Keiji frowns, confused, even as Tetsurou chokes out a laugh. He looks up at Keiji, and he’s smiling. Keiji takes a step back.

“That’s it,” Tetsurou says, and Keiji is wary of the light behind his eyes, “You can just turn him.”

Keiji’s stomach feels heavy. Organs that haven’t worked in centuries threaten to come back to life, and he swallows down an empty retch. He didn’t know he was still capable of wanting to vomit.

“No,” he says, and watches Tetsurou’s face fall and tighten into something pinched and angry. At his knees, Koutarou tries to gasp but hacks out a cough instead. Tetsurou hunches over Koutarou in an instant, wiping flecks of blood from his chin. It doesn’t make a difference and Koutarou doesn’t even acknowledge it, staring at Keiji in slow astonishment.

“...What?”

“I said no,” Keiji clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. They pierce the skin and it heals instantly, “I’m not doing that to you.”

“Now’s not the time for your lonely vampire angsting,” Tetsurou hisses. “Just do it.”

“No.”

Koutarou’s breathing is more laboured now, and the blood flow is starting to slow. There isn’t much time. Tetsurou’s crying, and Keiji can feel tears in his own eyes. He blinks rapidly.

“Fuck you,” Tetsurou spits, “You know I would if it would make a difference. Turn him!”

“He probably wouldn’t survive the process anyway…” Keiji says. His voice is unsteady. It hurts to speak.

“It’s worth a try!”

“It’s not!” Keiji’s voice cracks when he raises it. Koutarou can’t be a vampire. It goes against everything he is, everything that Keiji and Tetsurou love about him. He’s better off…

He’s better off dead.

Tetsurou glares fiercely and turns his back on Keiji, lifting Koutarou’s head into his lap and whispering softly to him, stroking the matted clumps of his hair.

“It’s gonna be okay…” Koutarou can’t hear Tetsurou, they both know that, but he keeps speaking anyway, “You’re gonna be okay…”

Keiji walks to the entrance of the alleyway, tuning out the sound of Tetsurou’s sobs and Koutarou’s last breaths. He doesn’t want to look. He knew this would happen.

He just didn’t think it was going to be this soon.

It’s quiet now. Koutarou’s rasping has stopped, and Tetsurou is gulping for air. Keiji wants to give it to him. Doesn’t know how.

Something flickers in the shadows. Amidst the stench of Koutarou’s blood, now devoid of lifeforce, Keiji catches it. Sulphur.

Keiji launches after the scent, and darkness descends over his eyes. He’s dimly aware of Tetsurou calling his name and heavy footsteps behind him, but all he can think of is Koutarou’s body, torn and disrespected.

He can’t see the demon he reaches out to, but he can feel his grip on their neck. They stink of Koutarou, and Keiji can’t take it anymore.

Demon blood tastes disgusting, but Keiji doesn’t think twice before sinking his teeth into the demon’s jugular, tearing out their throat with a brutal force. His mouth fills with an acidic taste, and he steps backwards, vision clearing as he lets the corpse drop to the floor.

There’s another one. Keiji turns to deal with them, but Tetsurou is already there. The moon is a crescent; he can’t shift, but he plunges the dagger into the demon’s chest without hesitation. He sinks down as the body goes limp, and stabs him again, and again.

Keiji goes to stand behind Tetsurou, laying a hand on his shoulder. Tetsurou shakes, leaning back against Keiji’s legs. His face is damp and dirty.

“Are you mad at me?” Keiji asks, and Tetsurou sighs.

“...I don’t want to be,” he says eventually, voice weary, “I’m not going to lose you too.”

It’s enough for Keiji. He helps Tetsurou to his feet, threading his fingers loosely through Tetsurou’s and kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth.

The body is gone by the time they get back to the alleyway. Of course, they’ve taken it away. Tetsurou shouts and kicks the dumpster, and Keiji wants to do the same; they can’t even bury him. Instead he leads Tetsurou slowly along Tokyo backstreets until they make it to their apartment.

The lift is broken. They take the stairs.

Neither of them had remembered their keys. Tsukishima answers the door only a few seconds after they knock, and Keiji faintly wonders why he’s awake. His eyes are red behind his glasses.

They stand in the doorway for a moment in silence. Tetsurou tries to speak, coughs instead, and Keiji realises that he’s going to have to do the talking.

“Koutarou…” he begins, and Tsukishima stops him with a hand.

“I know,” he says. He sounds pained, but Keiji’s struck by the acceptance in his tone. Tsukishima massages his temple with a grimace, “You’re going to want to see this.”

The apartment looks the same as when they’d left it. The corridor is still too narrow, and the bedroom door is open from when they’d burst out of it after getting Koutarou’s phone call. Koutarou’s clothes are strewn across the floor. Keiji closes the door when they pass it so that Tetsurou doesn’t have to look.

Tsukishima leads them into the living room, where Koutarou is hovering, faintly translucent, just above the couch. He folds his arms when he sees them, directing an indignant look at Keiji, whose brain stopped functioning roughly ten seconds ago.

“What the hell, man? Way to let your lover die on you.”

Keiji’s heart is in his mouth, and he struggles to think of a response even as Tetsurou woops. He’s crying as he rushes over to Koutarou, and he falls onto the couch when he goes in for a hug.

An undignified laugh escapes Keiji’s lips when Koutarou yells, and Tetsurou adjusts himself on the couch so that he can look up at him.

“Woah, that was really weird...you felt cold?”

“How do you think I felt? I never want you inside me like that again, Tetsu.”

“Then solidify, damnit! I want to hug you!”

“He hasn’t really figured out what’s going on yet,” Tsukishima says at Keiji’s side. Keiji tries to imagine what it must have been like for Tsukishima, not even aware that Koutarou had died before his ghost appeared in their apartment. Did he grieve?

Should they be grieving now?

“Ghosts can manifest,” Keiji says, thinking back to his previous experiences with them, “It just might take a little time to work out how.”

“I’ll do some research,” Tsukishima says with a nod, “And leave you three alone.”

Keiji huffs as Tsukishima walks away. Tetsurou’s already tormenting Koutarou when Keiji looks back, running a hand repeatedly through his torso with a cackle.

“Stop it, Tetsu, it tickles…!”

The apartment door clicks closed behind Tsukishima, and Keiji makes his way over to the couch. He sits down beside Tetsurou, and Koutarou maneuvers himself so that he’s lying across their laps. Keiji almost convinces himself he can feel his weight.

“I’m sorry,” Keiji says, and Koutarou shrugs.

“No big deal, I’m still here right?” he says, and Keiji smiles wanly, “I’m not going to let you live it down though.”

**

Keiji fixes Tetsurou a coffee, making a cup for himself while he’s at it. He doesn’t need to drink, but it might be a little strange for Tetsurou, being the only one who can now.

Koutarou sticks his finger in the mug closest to him as soon as Keiji sets it on the coffee table. There’s a soft hiss and Keiji sighs while Koutarou waits expectantly. His shoulders slump, and he falls back, sinking into the couch before bringing himself back up.

“Nothing,” he says sullenly, and Tetsurou pats the air around his shoulder.

“You’ll get there, hun.” Koutarou wrinkles his nose at the nickname, but seemed placated by the encouragement, so Keiji decides not to comment.

“Why are you still here?” he asks instead. Tetsurou raises an eyebrow and Koutarou’s head shoots up, hurt. Keiji takes a breath, still a little shaky,”I’m glad, believe me, but this isn’t supposed to happen.”

“That’s a good point. Aren’t you supposed to see a light or something? Did you run away from the light?” Tetsurou interjects, and Koutarou shrugs.

“I don’t really know...I didn’t even realise I was dead at first,” Koutarou explains, mouthing the word ‘dead’ slowly and making Keiji flinch, “I just remember you guys and then...I was here? Sort of like waking up, only I couldn’t touch anything.”

“Not ready to leave us yet, right?” Tetsurou grins, and Koutarou attempts to dig an elbow into his ribs. Tetsurou yelps when it goes right through him, “Jeez, that’s cold…”

“You must have unfinished business... “ Keiji muses, and Koutarou scoffs.

“Yeah, kicking your ass, you traitor.”

Keiji masks his flinch by picking up his coffee and taking a long sip. There’s a moment of silence before Tetsurou coughs, obviously eager to move on from the subject.

“Who kill- what the hell happened to you, though?” he asks. “You were only supposed to be going out for bread.”

Koutarou frowns again, crossing his legs in the air and resting his chin on his fingers, “I don’t… it’s kind of fuzzy?” he begins, “I remember that someone was following me to the store. I took three right turns - just like you told me to do - and they were still there. So I...texted you? Tried to lose them? I guess. And then they cornered me. I think I punched one of them in the face -”

“You punched a demon?” Keiji’s eyebrows shoot up, and Koutarou at least has the decency to look a little sheepish.

“I couldn’t have ran even if I wanted to, okay?” he protests. “That’s all I can remember though. Everything else is foggy, and it kind of hurts to think about...I don’t even know what they wanted...I think they were asking something…”

Koutarou pinches the bridge of his nose, and Keiji raises a hand, letting him know he needn’t strain himself. Tetsurou runs a hand over his face.

“So we’ve got nothing, basically,” he says, and Koutarou shrugs.

“Sorry man. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

There’s a finger in Keiji’s coffee before he can even finish setting it back on the table, and Keiji wrinkles his nose in disgust - even though a ghost surely can’t be that unsanitary. The liquid clings to Koutarou’s finger when he removes it, and he gasps, waving it in front of Tetsurou’s face.

“Yoo,” he says, going to poke Tetsurou. The coffee sticks to his cheek but Koutarou’s finger goes right through. Tetsurou’s answering glare is without heat, and Keiji thinks he understands: it’s too difficult to be mad when they can barely process the fact that he’s there at all.

“Hey, man, that’s gross,” Tetsurou laughs, shaking Koutarou out of his disappointment. His bright smile doesn’t look any different, and Keiji’s breath catches, a tightness forming in his chest when his remembers the body by the dumpster. Instinctively, he reaches out for Tetsurou’s hand, leaning forwards, and Tetsurou turns a second late to meet Keiji’s lips for a chaste kiss. Keiji cherishes the warmth of it until Tetsurou pulls away with a groan.

“I just thought of something,” he says, looking away.

“What?”

“How are we supposed to have celebratory you’re-not-as-gone-as-you-could-have-been sex when Kou can’t fucking touch anything?

Koutarou - somehow - pales, eyes widening in horror, and Keiji stares for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“That’s really where your mind is going right now?”

“Well, why shouldn’t it be? I’ve seen the movies, I know how this is supposed to go, and I’m sporting a serious post-fight boner right now.”

Keiji snorts, not batting an eyelid as he responds, “You’ll calm down, I’m sure. For now, we can sleep on it.”

He doesn’t realise how tired his muscles feel until he gets to his feet, holding out his arm to help Tetsurou do the same and moving behind Koutarou to usher him towards the bedroom. Koutarou’s clothes are strewn across the floor, and even though he might never wear them again, Keiji feels lighter just looking at them.

**

Keiji wakes up to a searing pain in his head. Blearily, he raises a hand to massage at his temple, opening his eyes and squinting up at the ceiling. He turns his head to the left, as the events of the previous night coming back to him. He's almost afraid to look.

On the far end of the bed Tetsurou is buried in his pillow, oblivious to the sunlight creeping its way around the blinds. They've been meaning to fix that forever, but as it is, most mornings Keiji finds himself playing a game of duck and avoid - unless he can persuade one of his lovers to stand in the way of the light.

His view is obscured, though, and it takes him a minute to realise that Koutarou is splayed out on his back between them, hovering halfway through the blanket. One hand sinks into Tetsurou's back, and the other is thrown through Keiji's face. He's snoring loudly. At least, Keiji thinks, this answers the question of whether or not ghosts can sleep. Koutarou will be pleased, when he wakes up and realises.

Keiji's cheeks are starting to go numb, and he's becoming more familiar with brain freeze than he's been since his death, so he rolls onto his back and sits up. The movement makes Koutarou stir, and Keiji watches in fascination as he stretches, yawning. The hoody he'd died in rides up, exposing Koutarou's chest - unwounded - and Keiji remembers why he never spends that much time around ghosts.

"There's no logic behind it," he murmurs even as Koutarou blinks awake, looking at him with inquisitive eyes. It's amusing to watch Koutarou wake up: his expression shifts from one of panic, waving frantically at the space between him and the mattress, to slow realisation, and then he grins.

"Hell yeah!" he shouts, making Tetsurou groan into the pillow beside him, "I can still sleep!"

"Me too." After three years of living together, Keiji and Koutarou have grown accustomed to Tetsurou's morning mumblings; fortunate, seeing as he refuses to lift his head to speak. "So you'd damn well better let me."

"Sorry, Tetsu," Koutarou says, but his grin doesn't falter. "Sleep is going to be so much better now that I don't _have_ to do it, though. It's going to be like a real treat."

He jolts in surprise when one of Keiji's pillows passes through him. Tetsurou isn't looking where he's swiping, but he's still got pretty keen senses and a good aim.

"Good for you," Tetsurou says, "Now let the living rest in peace."

Keiji shuffles out of the bed with care, wincing when some of the sunlight catches him in the eyes. He's an old vampire, and powerful, but that doesn't mean he's happy to deal with the migraines. He throws a robe over his boxers and makes his way into the kitchen, Koutarou trailing after him.

"Hey, if I can sleep, do you think I can eat?" he asks, even as Keiji opens the fridge. He takes a blood sample from a packet in the vegetable drawer - all but bare, and Keiji doesn't suppose he's going to be able to persuade Tetsurou to buy any now that there's just him and Tsukishima to feed - and pours it into a glass. He takes a long sip, looking at Koutarou over the glass.

"I don't think that's a risk worth taking," he says, thinking of the mess they'd have to clean up, "Tsukishima would have a fit. Besides, why would you want to? Food is disgusting and it's so much hassle."

Koutarou stares at him, open mouthed, "You're only saying that because you've never had a McDonald's, Old Man."

Keiji shudders, "I've fed from someone who has. That's enough for me."

Koutarou opens his mouth to reply, but he's interrupted when they hear the sound of the key turning in the front door. Tsukishima heads straight towards the kitchen when he gets in, shrugging off his coat and folding it in front of his arms.

"You're still here, then," he comments, nodding at Koutarou, "I was wondering if you might pass on in the night."

"Nope!" Koutarou beams, reaching out to pat Tsukishima on the shoulder. Tsukishima grimaces when the hand passes through him, and Koutarou repeats the movement for good measure, "You're stuck with me."

"Oh, joy..." Tsukishima mumbles, "Good thing I've spent the night trying to figure out how to make you just as annoying as you used to be."

"You're too good to me, Tsukki," Koutarou says, hand on his heart, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. He pulls a notebook from the pocket of his coat - it's small but thick, covered in post-its, and Keiji knows that the handwriting isn't Tsukishima's.

"Were you at Kageyama's?" Keiji asks. Koutarou waggles his eyebrows, attempting to lean back on the counter and falling straight through it instead. He yells, but quickly rights himself, and neither Keiji nor Tsukishima disguise their laughter.

"Shut up, I'm still getting used to it!" he says defensively, before focusing his attention back on Tsukishima. "Where else would he be but Kageyama's? Tsukishima doesn't like to do 'research' with anyone else."

Koutarou leans on the word research, and Tsukishima scowls. Keiji's going to have to diffuse the situation pretty quickly; it's too early for this kind of bickering.

"He didn't mind you disturbing him at 3AM?" he asks, redirecting the conversation. Tsukishima shrugs.

"He's used to it."

"I bet he is," Koutarou begins, and Tsukishima turns to him, blonde curls highlighting the pink flush that's creeping up the back of his neck.

"It was research," he says hotly. "Frankly, I'm a bit sick of you insinuating it might have been anything else - especially when I was there to help you. Get your mind out of the gutter."

Koutarou scoffs, "Please, you wouldn't spend that much time around someone you can't stop complaining about if you weren't getting something more from it. There are plenty of other witches better than you to get advice from. Hell, every witch is probably better than you."

"Well, if that's how you want to play it..." Tsukishima says, making for the door again, but Keiji grabs his arm.

"You know he's only playing," Keiji says, and Tsukishima doesn't reply, "And I know you wouldn't have bothered getting the information if you didn't want to help."

Tsukishima sighs, "There honestly isn't that much to say, really. Bokuto’s here because for some reason,” he gives Keiji a pointed look, “He can’t pass on. If he’s going to be here for a while he’ll eventually learn to manifest and control his energies. It’s a matter of focus.”

“So he’s fucked then,” Tetsurou interrupts, rubbing his eyes as he enters the kitchen. Koutarou looks on, indignant, and Tetsurou moves through him, popping bread into the toaster and bending slightly to give Keiji a kiss on the cheek. He blows another in Koutarou’s direction.

“Morning, babes, Tsukki.”

“Stop calling me that,” Keiji and Tsukishima say in unison, and exchange exasperated glances. Keiji continues, “And you stink of dog.”

Tetsurou grins, “morning breath,” and Koutarou pouts.

“I can’t smell it…” he says, beginning to sag. Keiji and Tetsurou look at each other, alarmed.

“That’s a bonus,” Tetsurou says quickly, “You’ll never have to deal with it again.”

“Yeah…” Koutarou nods, but he’s already looking over at the coffee maker, and Keiji remembers the month they’d forced him to go without caffeine, when he’d taken to making cups just to smell the brew.

“It’s too cramped in here,” Keiji says eventually, after everyone spends a couple of seconds floundering, “Let’s fill Tsukishima in on what happened in the living room.”

Giving Koutarou a chance to tell his story again - and there are a few extra details; Koutarou can remember the name of the shop he was heading to, now - distracts him, and to his credit, Tsukishima holds off on the snide comments. It’s not much, but Keiji can see the way Tsukishima’s chewing on his lip, listening seriously. Koutarou picks up on the impressed looks Tsukishima is giving him and preens under the attention. On the couch beside him, he feels Tetsurou relax; it seems as though neither of them are quite ready to talk about the massive impact Koutarou’s death is going to have on his life.

“If they wanted something from you, they’ll probably still be trying to get it…” Tsukishima muses when Koutarou has finished. “Even if it’s just information, they’re going to target the people you knew first. Plus, some demons can tell whether the soul left the body as a spirit or not. That’s probably why they took yours.”

“You’re telling me he di - got away and it’s still not enough?” Tetsurou asks. Keiji doesn’t miss the way he stumbles over his word choice.Tsukishima shrugs.

“It’s a possibility. I don’t know for sure, of course. But if...” and he shoots a sideways glance at Keiji when he says this - Tsukishima perhaps understands his temper a little better than Tetsurou and Koutarou do, “...if we’re looking to avenge Bokuto, and they might be coming after us anyway, it makes sense to try and stay one step ahead.”

“One step ahead,” Tetsurou repeats, laughing, “And how do we do that when we don’t even know who they are? There are a shit ton of demons in Japan, Tsukki.”

“So that’s where we start,” Tsukishima says, unfazed, “I’ve never done it before, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to summon demons. If we keep them contained and bound to my will, we’ll be able to interrogate them.”

“That sounds like a decent plan,” Keiji says mildly. Tetsurou and Koutarou look towards him, and then begin inching away. He frowns, “what?”

“Your face… is kind of scary, Keiji…” Koutarou says, “I mean, it’s hot, but…”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re thousands of years old and a ruthless killer,” Tetsurou adds. Keiji winces, and Tetsurou corrects himself. “Or you used to be. Right now it’s pretty obvious though.”

Keiji hums, “It’ll be nice to have something to direct all that ‘ruthlessness’ towards,” he says drily. Koutarou laughs, and Keiji raises an eyebrow. He’s only half joking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation into who killed Koutarou begins, Tetsurou and Keiji work out some of their issues, and the three of them try for a little...fun time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for bearing with me! i'm writing my thesis at the moment and it's due very soon, so updates are a little slower than i planned. enjoy ♥
> 
> the last scene of this is nsfw (ghost sex). if that's not your jam, you can skip over it, but tbh having sex with a ghost is probably the sub plot of this work...

The sun is just setting when Keiji finishes his shift at work, painting the sky a dusty rose gold and peeking between tall towers. Keiji catches a glimpse of it as he changes out of his uniform, and he peers up at the skylight with disdain. Working long hours as a hospital orderly was amazing during the winter, when he could travel to and from his job in the dark, but now that the days were starting to get longer...

He sighs. He doubts that he'll have to worry about it come summer anyway; he never can hold down a job for long. Still, the more logical option - working nights - makes him equally uncomfortable. He doesn't want to spend half his death away from Tetsurou and Koutarou, and the other half asleep.

Keiji pulls his hood up over his head, tucking his hands into his pockets after clocking out. When he arrives at reception, he sees Tetsurou sitting in the waiting room, a cap and sunglasses in his hands.

"Thought you might need these," Tetsurou says, and Keiji resists the urge to kiss him right there. He puts the cap on and pulls the hood over it, slipping the sunglasses over his eyes last. Unfortunately, this means Tetsurou can't see him glare when he waggles his eyebrows. "Hardcore."

"Thanks," Keiji answers, too grateful to bother responding to his teasing. He offers Tetsurou his elbow, huffing out a laugh when Tetsurou gives a little curtsey. "Want me to walk you home?"

"Such a gentleman," Tetsurou gushes, wrapping long fingers around Keiji's bicep and leading them both out of the hospital.

For all that the sun might burn him, Keiji feels lighter the second he steps into the evening air, Tetsurou close at his side. Maybe it's a little forced, but Tetsurou's still making jokes with him, and he went out of his way to meet Keiji here. Some of the lead that had settled in Keiji's stomach dissipates, and he allows himself a moment of optimism.

_We're going to make it through this._

"How's the situation at home?" Keiji asks lightly, and Tetsurou shrugs.

"I hadn't been back long myself before I realised you'd probably need me," he replies, giving Keiji's arm a quick squeeze. "You know it was Tsukki's day off, right? So he's spread his shit all over the lounge and it stinks. Kou’s been trying to lift stuff. Mostly food, one time Tsukki.”

Keiji snorts. ”I can imagine that went well.”

“Tsukki started trying to exorcise him,” Tetsurou replies with a laugh. “It’s a good thing he’s so bad at being a witch.”

“We’ve got an amateur witch and an amateur ghost on our hands now, Tetsurou,” Keiji quips, “I think that makes us the responsible ones.”

“Good luck with that,” Tetsurou snorts, but Keiji doesn’t miss that he’s tensed, stepping away from him at the word ‘ghost’. Tetsurou’s pace quickens, and Keiji hangs behind, watching the stiff line of his back and the way he carries his shoulders a little too squarely.

Catching up, Keiji tugs at Tetsurou’s fingers with his own. Tetsurou flinches.

“How are you doing?” Keiji asks softly.

“Fine.” Tetsurou’s response is too quick, and he doesn’t meet Keiji’s eyes. Keiji observes him through tinted lenses and goes to take his hand.

“You don’t have to be…” he tries, even though he feels lost. It’s Koutarou that has always teased the honesty out of both of them, and Keiji’s not sure he knows how to instigate this sort of conversation without him. They’re both adverse to being vulnerable; Koutarou was their warmth, and now they have to recalculate. He takes in a breath. “Loss is -”

“But we didn’t lose him,” Tetsurou snaps harshly, jerking his hand away. “He’s still here, and I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not,” Keiji persists. “Even if he’s here now, what are we going to do if - _when_ \- he passes on? He can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not?” Tetsurou says, turning to glare at Keiji. His eyes are narrow, fierce - like nothing Keiji’s ever seen from him. “It’s not like anything can happen to him now, anyway, is it? He’s already -”

Tetsurou cuts off abruptly, exhaling through his nose and making a strangled noise in his throat. Keiji watches, astonished at the outburst, and does nothing when Tetsurou strides ahead of him. His chest aches, brows knitting together at the pain.

Tetsurou probably would have gone all the way home without Keiji, but he’s interrupted by a Newfoundland breaking free of her owner and bounding across the road to greet him. Tetsurou snarls as she leaps up, and she quickly ducks down, hiding her nose in her paws. It’s quiet as Tetsurou looks down on her, the owner looking on from the other side of the road in shock. As Keiji walks towards him, he hears Tetsurou give a heavy sigh.

“I hate dogs,” he says, even as he bends to scratch her ears. The dog whines happily. “Why can’t I have this kind of command over cats, huh? Cats are the coolest.”

“Cats hate you,” Keiji points out, and smiles when Tetsurou laughs, pressing his forehead against the dog’s.

“Don’t remind me,” he sighs, “I always wanted a cat. Guess these mutts will have to do.”

The owner eventually makes her way across the road, immensely apologetic, and Tetsurou hands the lead over with a winning smile that makes her blush. Keiji stays in the background, knowing he must seem intimidating in his glasses and cap, but when they go to start walking again Tetsurou holds out his hand, and Keiji takes it immediately. He knows that Tetsurou isn’t okay yet, and that there’s something else they’re going to have to work through, but he can’t bring himself to persevere just now. There’s been enough fighting. They walk in silence for a while, allowing the tension to pass, and then Tetsurou begins to swing their arms.

“You know what we need to talk about, though?” he asks, looking at Keiji with a gleam in his eyes and a full-toothed grin. “Sex.”

“What?” Keiji asks, and Tetsurou groans.

“Sex, Akaashi. How are we gonna do it? We haven’t even mentioned it since the first night.”

“That’s because there are more important things…” Keiji begins, but relents under Tetsurou’s unwavering stare. “With his condition - I don’t think he’s going to be able to manifest for long enough any time soon. Not to mention that his mood changes will probably affect his physicality…”

“He can touch himself, though, right?”

“Sure, but voyeurism grows stale after a while…” Keiji trails off, shrugging.  “If all he does is masturbate while we have sex, he’s going to feel left out. If he can learn to hold candles or ice, though, we can work with that… and there’s always dirty talk.”

Koutarou has a filthy mouth. Keiji and Tetsurou’s are filthier. He’s sure that between them they could give him enough attention to get him off.

“I feel something whenever he, like, passes through me, too,” Tetsurou says, shuddering. “It’s gross. We should use that.”

Keiji raises his eyebrows at Tetsurou. “Alright. I’m sure Koutarou feels something too, so it’s worth a try. I don’t think he’s going to be able to use a vibrator, unfortunately… the electricity might be a little to difficult to handle.”

“Yeah, that’s not something we - wait,” Tetsurou says with a sly grin, “these aren’t spontaneous answers.”

Keiji looks resolutely ahead, grateful that his dark skin and the tinted glasses hide his blush. Tetsurou’s elbow digs into his ribs.

“You’ve been thinking about it, haven’t you? I thought you said it wasn’t important.”

“It’s not,” Keiji insists. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t _considered_ … I’m only human, after all.”

“Well…”

“Figuratively speaking.”

They’re interrupted by a loud yell when they reach the bottom of their apartment building, and they look towards the sound to see Koutarou waving his arms. Tetsurou waves back, and Keiji frowns.

“How did you get out of the house?” he asks as they approach him, and Koutarou scrunches up his nose.

“Way to congratulate me, Keiji,” he says, “I’ve been stretching my limits all day. It’s hard, but if I really concentrate, I can-”

“Where are your legs, though, Kou?” Tetsurou asks, and both Keiji and Koutarou look down. Sure enough, he fades out around the mid torso, looking as though he’s floating in mid air.

Koutarou has just enough time to shout “shit!” when there’s a soft pop and he disappears. Alarmed, Keiji and Tetsurou race up the stairs, unlocking the door to their apartment as quickly as possible. Koutarou sits, dismayed, on the couch in the living room, and Tsukishima looks up from where he’s tracing pentagrams onto the panelled floor when they enter.

“He always pings back to the couch,” Tsukishima says, “as if we need any more proof that he’s lazy.”

Koutarou makes a half hearted swipe through Tsukishima’s head, laughing when he yelps, and Keiji folds his arms.

“You had us worried,” he says, and Koutarou looks up apologetically.

“Yeah, sorry… It’s been a pretty unsuccessful day all round. Tsukki can’t draw a pentagram for shit.”

“Shut up,” Tsukishima says, but he’s flustered, and Keiji knows that he’s trying.

“We’ve got time,” Keiji says in the end, and Tetsurou looks at him, surprised. Keiji knows that’s not what he implied earlier, but it doesn’t hurt to think wishfully sometimes. “Let’s take a break for now.”

“Pizza?” Koutarou perks up, and Tsukishima laughs.

“Sure, we’ll order pizza. You can watch us eat it and try to remember what it tastes like.”

“Don’t be mean, Tsukki,” Tetsurou says, moving to Koutarou’s side before he can get dejected, “or we’ll have to have the _very_ exciting chat Keiji and are planning on having with Kou in front of you.”

Koutarou’s interest is piqued as Tsukki’s expression turns disgusted. He stands, slamming one of his books closed, and moves across the room.

“No need,” he says, “I’ll collect the takeout myself. You’ve got half an hour.”

**

“What’s he doing?”

Tetsurou speaks out of the corner of his mouth, leaning into Tsukishima, who scowls and steps away, knocking into the bookshelf. Keiji sits on the armchair in the corner, leaning into the plush cushion and watching them both with folded arms, but Koutarou’s eyes are glued on the demon in the centre of their living room.

He’s enormous. Keiji looks him over again, thankful that he’s trapped in Tsukishima’s carefully drawn summoning circle when their eyes meet. His eyes are pale, skin translucent and short hair glowing. He doesn’t have any eyebrows, and Keiji can’t quite tell if that makes him seem as though his expression is trapped in a frown, or whether he’s actually glaring them all down. Keiji wouldn’t hold it against him; it must be frustrating to be summoned at all.

“What do you mean, what is he doing? You can see him just fine,” Tsukishima snaps as Tetsurou continues to pester him.

“Sure, but why isn’t he speaking? Did you forget to summon his voice box or something?”

Tsukishima’s flush rises hotly from his chest. “No,” he insists, and then opens his textbook again, scanning the page with a finger, “I don’t think…”

Keiji sighs. Tsukishima had gotten defensive when he’d suggested asking Kageyama for help with the summoning, but the truth is he’s still just an amateur, and there’s only so much ego nursing Keiji’s willing to tolerate on their quest to find Koutarou’s killer. It’s not worth it, and he opens his mouth to say as much when movement from within the circle distracts him.

The demon - Aone, Tsukishima had said during the ritual - lifts an arm slowly, extending his fingers until he’s pointing at Tetsurou. The tip of his index finger is outside of the circle, and Keiji watches, open mouthed, as smoke curls from it and Aone’s face remains impassive.

Koutarou de-manifests, appearing defensively at Tetsurou’s side. Tetsurou tugs on Tsukishima’s sleeve, wide eyes watching Aone warily. “Hey, hey, what’s he doing, Tsukki, come on?” Even Tsukishima looks rattled, coughing and pushing his glasses up his nose to hide his discomfort.

“Maybe it means something. Do you know him?”

“What do you mean, do I know him? You think I go around hitting up demon dive bars in my spare time?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised...”

Aone hasn’t moved a muscle during this exchange, and Keiji clears his throat from in the chair.

“Send him away, Tsukishima. He’s not going to talk, and there’s no point keeping him here. We’re wasting time.”

Tetsurou nods eagerly. “Yeah, please, he’s creeping me out.”

The dismissal chant takes far less time than the summoning did, and Keiji gets up to stand by Tetsurou and Koutarou whilst Tsukishima moves around the circle, making modifications and checking that everything is still in place before relighting the candles.

“What’s wrong, Keiji?” Koutarou asks, nodding towards his hands. Keiji hadn’t even noticed he was pulling on his knuckles, and he smoothes his frown over, not wanting to concern Koutarou.

“I’m just - I want to move quickly,” Keiji answers him carefully. “The longer we leave it the more likely it is that they’ll get away.”

“Can anything get away from you?” Tetsurou asks, grinning when Keiji snorts. His tone turns serious when he continues, “I’m worried too, to be honest. Tsukishima’s only really capable of summoning lower level demons, and I’m not sure that they’re going to have much information. They’re definitely not responsible; they wouldn’t have been able to -” Tetsurou cuts off, face paling, and Keiji knows that he’s reliving it. He wonders what it must have felt like to hold Koutarou in his arms while his guts were spilling everywhere, to feel the warmth slipping out of him…

Koutarou yells to break the silence that has descended, “It’ll be fine! We’ll move onto the next one, I’m sure we’ll get a clue eventually. Right, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima nods, though Keiji suspects that might be to preserve their faith in his abilities rather than out of any kind of optimism. He begins the next summoning, and Keiji continues watching the haunted expression on Tetsurou’s face until it breaks, mouth opening in recognition, when Tsukishima says the demon’s name.

Keiji doesn’t have time to question him before the smoke clears inside the circle, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that this demon is at least a foot shorter than the last. His head is hunched over his hands, which are holding onto empty air, and he brushes blonde hair with overgrown roots behind his ear as he looks up in annoyance. Once he locks eyes with Tetsurou, though, his expression changes.

“Kuro?” he asks in surprise, and Tetsurou beams. It’s genuine, too, and Keiji and Koutarou exchange equally confused glances.

“Kenma, hey!” Tetsurou’s toeing the edge of the circle before anyone can say anything, ignoring Tsukishima’s blustering. “How are you doing?”

‘Kenma’ shrugs, toes scuffing the floor and putting his hands in his pockets, “Okay,” he says, and Keiji is surprised to hear that his voice is small, almost gentle. The demons he’d dealt with in the past all had harsh, rasping voices that sounded like the destruction they wreaked. “I was in the middle of a level when you called me.”

“A DS doesn’t travel? Weird, clothes do.”

Kenma shrugs again, “Electronics,” he supplies, and Tetsurou hums.

“Man, sorry about that. It’s important, though. Think you could help me out?”

Kenma shifts, looking nervously around at the rest of the people in the room, and for the brief second their eyes meet Keiji thinks that he doesn’t look shy; he looks _frightened_.

“Depends…” he says slowly, and Tetsurou raises his hands, laughing easily.

“It’s nothing too hard, don’t worry. We’re just wondering if you had any information on some demons who might have killed recently?”

“We’re _demons_ , Kuro,” Kenma sighs, “That’s hardly unusual.”

“This is different. This was organised.” Kenma looks towards Keiji when he speaks, and there it is again, that expression that Keiji can’t explain. “They targeted him,” he adds, nodding towards Koutarou, who waves hesitantly.

There’s a moment of silence as Kenma’s eyes rove over Koutarou. His gaze is piercing, analytical, and it makes Koutarou grimace, shifting uncomfortably.

“No,” Kenma says eventually, and Keiji can’t hide his disappointment. He was sure there had been _something_ … “I don’t know anything. I haven’t…really left home in a few years.”

Eyes flit to Tetsurou again, and Keiji doesn’t miss his intake of breath.

“So how do you know Tetsurou, then?” Tsukishima asks from his position against the wall. He looks as suspicious as Keiji feels. Tetsurou opens his mouth, but Kenma beats him to it.

“We met on an RPG forum,” he replies, “Kuro really sucks at computer games.”

“That’s true,” Tetsurou concedes as Koutarou laughs uproariously at him, “I do. And we kept talking because he’s so cute.”

Koutarou’s laughter stops. “Not as cute as us, though, right?”

Tetsurou’s fingers cup his chin in mock consideration, shouting when Koutarou surges towards him, and they chase each other through the flat, leaving the living room and heading into the kitchen. There’s a crash, and Keiji rolls his eyes. They’ve lost their attention now.

“Thanks for your time,” Keiji says, turning back to Kenma. Kenma nods hastily, expression unreadable.

“It’s fine if it’s for Kuro. This… it’s the longest I’ve been out, though, I really-”

“Allow me,” Tsukishima says, muttering the dismissal. Kenma’s gone in an instant, and Keiji locks eyes with Tsukishima.

“Tell me you found that suspicious,” Tsukishima says. Somehow, it sounds harsher coming from him, and Keiji bristles.

“Tetsurou can have friends.”

“I’m not saying he can’t,” Tsukishima counters. “This isn’t a domestic, Akaashi-san, I’m not interfering. Someone killed my _friend_.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Tsukishima exhales, focusing on the symbols painted into the ground. “It’s fine. This is hard for all of us. Please remember that.” Keiji nods even though Tsukishima can’t see him, and Tsukishima clears his throat. “Onto the next one, then. He’s the last for now, but I’ll keep looking.”

Keiji feels a pang of sympathy for Tsukishima, stepping forward to lay a hand on his shoulder. He’s shrugged off before he can say anything, and then Tsukishima begins the summoning, voice tighter than it was before.

The final demon looks vicious, looming over them with jagged teeth, hair buzzed close to his scalp, but he introduces himself as Tanaka as soon as he finds out what they’re looking for, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“Man, I wish I could help you, that’s rough,” he says, and Keiji believes him. “I’m just a small fry, though. You’ve got to go higher up the food chain to get that sort of information, they keep the grapevine pretty well under wraps these days.”

He’s apologetic, listing a few names they could try. Tsukishima zeroes in on one, and Keiji breathes deeply, calming himself. Everyone wants to find Koutarou’s killers, he knows this, and he’s had enough practice curbing his temper.

Tanaka’s gone by the time Tetsurou and Koutarou re-enter the room, Koutarou carefully cradling a mixing bowl in translucent hands. Tetsurou’s beaming, and Keiji knows Koutarou would be too if he wasn’t concentrating so hard.

“We’re making a cake,” Tetsurou says proudly, and Tsukishima spins around, eyes flashing behind his glasses.

“Not agai-” he begins, just as the bowl crashes to the ground, spilling a congealed mess of flour, milk and egg yolk all over the floor. Tsukishima groans as Keiji stares down at the mess, the beginnings of a headache pounding in his temples.

“You’ve got to stop this,” Tsukishima says bluntly, picking up his books and shoving them into a backpack, “I’m going to Kageyama’s until you’ve cleaned up.”

Koutarou watches him go, dismayed, and Tetsurou calls after him, “We refuse to be an excuse for your sexcapades!” The pair laugh as Tsukishima yells ‘it’s not like that’ before slamming the door.

“He’s got a point, you know,” Keiji says when he’s gone, half a mind to leave Tetsurou to clean up by himself. He fetches a mop, though, and Koutarou amuses himself by trying to put his hands through the soapy water while they work.

“I can almost feel it…” he says, hopeful, and wrinkles his nose, “it’s kind of gross.”

Keiji’s silent, thoughtful, until Tetsurou nudges him with an elbow.

“We’re getting there,” he says, voice low.

“I know. I just…”

“Stop thinking, god,” Tetsurou groans, “the situation’s depressing enough already.”

He’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. His look says as much, and Tetsurou watches him for a moment, chewing his lip until his expression turns mischievous.

“Come on, let’s spend the rest of the day training Kou to touch things. Bossing people around always cheers you up, right, Keiji?”

Keiji tosses a damp rag at Tetsurou’s head, and Koutarou’s bright laughter rises to the ceiling, taking Keiji’s spirits with it. They’re making progress, little by little, and honestly, Keiji just wants to take some time to be grateful that Koutarou’s still here.

**

“Look, it’s fine. I’m sitting, not floating or anything.”

The bedsheet creases inwards around Koutarou, and when he bounces, the mattress squeaks. Keiji’s hand tightens around Tetsurou’s, standing together at the foot of the bed. They’ve come a long way in the few days Tsukishima’s been gone, and Koutarou’s enthusiasm is infectious.

“Very good,” Tetsurou says, pressing a kiss into Keiji’s hair. It’s more for Koutarou than it is for Keiji though, and Koutarou knows it, preening and rubbing the top of his head with a warm glow.

“And I’ve been able to touch myself for a while now,” Koutarou adds, Keiji snorting softly with Tetsurou as he moves behind Keiji, arms wrapping around his waist, stretching to rest his chin on his curls. “Come on, guys. We can do this. It’s been so long…”

“Can you even get hard?” Tetsurou interjects, squeezing the soft flesh on Keiji’s hip bone. “What does a ghost boner feel like?”

Koutarou grins, and the bedsheet shifts again as he spreads his legs wide across the mattress.

“Get me worked up and I’ll describe it to you.”

“We can’t touch you, though,” Keiji points out as Tetsurou’s thumb strokes across the line of his pelvis. Koutarou slumps for a moment, but he’s not deterred.

“We’ll get to that. Just let me watch you guys. That’s hot enough.”

“You sure?” Tetsurou asks, breath against Keiji’s ear. Keiji shivers as Koutarou laughs, eyebrows raised.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve seen yourselves.”

“Actually…” Keiji points out, gesturing to his empty reflection in the mirror by the bed. Tetsurou bends low to kiss his ear, mouthing at thin air in the mirror, and Keiji sighs. “Not for a few hundred years now.”

“Maybe it’s not Kou we should be worried about getting it up,” Tetsurou says, grabbing Keiji’s crotch roughly and squeezing. Keiji jerks back into him, huffing. “Do you need to take something before we start, old man?”

“Shut up,” Keiji growls, grinding his ass down until Tetsurou groans, still laughing. When Keiji looks up, Koutarou’s grinning, already palming himself slowly through his jeans.

“God, I love you guys,” he says, leaning back against the pillow with his elbow. It sinks in once, but he hastily drags it back up.

“Don’t get too distracted,” Keiji warns, and Koutarou laughs hoarsely.

“You’ll have to do better than this for that.”

Tetsurou’s hands tighten on Keiji’s hips, and he turns him until they’re facing each other in profile opposite the bed. Tetsurou regards him softly, thumb coming to tip his jaw upwards.

“It’s been a while since it’s just been you and me, huh?” he says, and Keiji looks off to the side, remembering. The three of them had still been new and Koutarou had been away visiting family for the week, leaving Keiji and Tetsurou to tiptoe around each other. Their growing frustration at each others’ bad habits had led to them fucking in the kitchen, and when they came they’d both said Koutarou’s name, collapsing into a tired, laughing heap on the floor when they were finished.

“It never has been,” Keiji says, fingers curling around the hairs at the nape of Tetsurou’s neck. “It never will be.”

Then they’re kissing, Tetsurou’s tongue warm, seeking access to Keiji’s mouth immediately, and Keiji gives it to him, pulling him closer. Tetsurou’s kisses are wet but firm, and he guides Keiji’s face into tilting with gentle nudges to his jaw. Keiji’s free hand slips up Tetsurou’s shirt, and he flinches.

“Cold hands,” he mumbles against Keiji’s mouth, and Keiji grins.

“Poor circulation,” he spreads his hands across the width of Tetsurou’s abdomen, sliding up until he can rub against his nipple, and Tetsurou gasps, pulling him in to kiss him again, gripping his ass.

“Too many clothes,” Koutarou complains from the bed, already removing his own shorts, and Keiji rolls his eyes but obliges him, making Tetsurou lift his arms so that he can pull his shirt over his head, “You too, Keiji, I wanna see.”

Tetsurou maneuvers Keiji until he’s facing the bed, sitting down in front of him, and Keiji can’t decide which of the two to look at. Koutarou’s hand is already on his cock, and he’s not as quick as he used to be, but Keiji can see he’s still getting hard, expression determined, eyes locked on the flesh Tetsurou’s revealing as he unbuttons Keiji’s shirt.

Tetsurou’s hands are as warm as the rest of him, and he pulls Keiji’s shirt down with practiced care, tugging his wrists out of the sleeves. His eyes are sharp beneath his fringe and eyelashes, and the feel of callous fingers across his stomach makes Keiji pause for breath, hitching when he tugs on the waistband of his jeans.

“You’re pretty eager,” Keiji comments, but Koutarou’s eyes have lit up behind Tetsurou and so he nods, allowing Tetsurou to tug his pants down until he’s bare in front of him.

“Tetsu, your head’s in the way,” Koutarou whines.

“It’s going to stay that way,” Tetsurou takes hold of Keiji’s cock, licking a long stripe up the length, and Keiji locks eyes with Koutarou as he breathes out slowly.

Tetsurou wastes no time bringing Keiji to hardness, squeezing his balls and the base of his cock with his fingers and thumb whilst licking him broadly, pausing every so often to pull back his foreskin and suck on the head.

“Your old man cock tastes good,” Tetsurou quips, and Keiji retaliates by pushing forward when his mouth is on him until Tetsurou coughs. He accepts the challenge, though, taking his hand off the base of Keiji’s cock to rub himself through his underwear and deepthroating him with ease.

Keiji’s on fire. His own hands pinch his nipples, and when he can open them, his eyes roam across Koutarou’s body. Koutarou licks his lips, and Keiji can see his cock getting harder with each stroke. He gives a performative moan, allows his head to roll back towards the ceiling and rests his hand on Tetsurou’s head.

No one sucks dick like Tetsurou.

When Keiji opens his eyes next, blinking away black spots from his vision, he sees that Koutarou’s on all fours, crawling towards them. Keiji’s hands tighten in Tetsurou’s hair and Koutarou reaches for his shoulders, going to massage them.

His hands pass straight through Tetsurou, making contact with the bed. Tetsurou shudders and groans, popping off Keiji’s dick and squeezing the outline of his cock, eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh my god,” Tetsurou and Koutarou say in unison, and Keiji watches them with suspicion, stroking his cock gently to protect it from the cold.

“That was gross,” Tetsurou says, features scrunching; then he sighs, “But also: hot.”

“I _felt_ it,” Koutarou adds, looking at Keiji in awe. “It was super hot, in a really gross way. But I felt it!”

“You can feel things through me?” Tetsurou asks, and Keiji has to pinch the bridge of his nose, focusing his attention away from his cock so he can think.

“Did he possess you?”

“No way, I was totally in control,” Tetsurou answers with a shiver, “But I could feel something...it was weird. Not mine, but it felt familiar? I was kind of...both of us at once.”

_Empathetic transfer_ , Keiji’s memory supplies, though he’s never actually experienced it before.

“Maybe it’s because of the heightened -”

“ _Keiji_ ,” Koutarou says emphatically, attracting his attention, “Who cares, let’s just use it.”

Keiji surges forwards, pushing Tetsurou down onto the bed as Koutarou scrambles back. As he looms over Tetsurou, Koutarou’s hand comes to stroke through his hair, the other squeezing his own dick, and Keiji moans, bending in to kiss Tetsurou. He can feel Koutarou’s thick fingers on his dick, Tetsurou hot in his mouth, and the echo of Koutarou feeling the same. He’s dizzy, and so hard he’s aching, reaching with fumbling fingers to pull at Tetsurou’s boxer shorts.Tetsurou arches his hips, digging his heels into the bed, and Keiji’s hands are on him the second his cock pulls free, stroking him carefully and sucking marks into his neck.

“You gonna ride me..?” Tetsurou asks, voice strained. Koutarou’s fingers pull through his chest and he arches backwards, nose millimeters away from Koutarou’s cock, “God, Kou, you look so good, wish I could taste you…”

“Shit, lube,” Keiji says, and Koutarou’s head jerks up.

“On it,” he replies, de-manifesting, and Tetsurou gasps when his hand leaves him. He’s back in an instant, though, dropping the lube proudly on the bed and kneeling back by Kuroo’s head, “Let me see you ride him, Keiji, let me feel it, please.”

Keiji’s hands are drenched in no time, and Koutarou’s mouth runs through his as he coats himself, and suddenly his fingers aren’t his own anymore, and he’s missed this touch. He keeps himself supported over Tetsurou, Koutarou kissing him with electric arousal, and Keiji feels his own arm stretching backwards but with the memory of Koutarou’s fingers inside him - or Tetsurou’s - or inside Koutarou - nothing seems clear but it’s all so _good_. Beneath him, Koutarou’s hands are stuck back in Tetsurou’s shoulders, and Tetsurou is moaning even though no one is touching him, and Keiji understands because he can feel it too.

The quietness Keiji feels when he pulls away leaves his head ringing, and he’s hazy as he guides Tetsurou’s cock into him.

“Te-tsu…” Tetsurou gasps out, eyes closed, and the ridiculousness makes Keiji bark out a laugh, ass clenching halfway on his cock.

“That’s you,” Keiji points out, and then he’s moving on Tetsurou’s cock, rolling his hips and leaning forward to meet Koutarou.

Everything blurs. Keiji isn’t Keiji, he’s all of them and he _thinks_ he’s moving but he can’t be certain, he just feels full. He’s gasping, or someone is, and their nostrils are full of the smell of sweat, salt and sex, from now and before. They don’t know if the lights are off anymore, because everything is dark, flashes of pale skin against tan, dark curls and white teeth behind their eyelids. They’re burning, and they’re so cold, and they don’t know whose name they’re moaning anymore, just that it’s someone's.

Keiji looks so good above them. Tetsurou looks so good below. Koutarou is everywhere and it’s the first time ever they’ve all come together, silent, even though they’re sure they’re yelling.

The sensation dies down as Koutarou moves away from them, and Keiji feels like he’s floating steadily back into his body. He’s suddenly painfully aware of the ache of his muscles; Tetsurou’s saliva in his mouth and his own dropping iron count.

Tetsurou’s stomach is covered in Keiji’s come. Tetsurou swipes a shaky finger, frowning, and Keiji realises what he’s thinking. There’s not enough. They both turn to look at Koutarou.

“Did you come?” Keiji asks, and Koutarou nods. Keiji doesn’t doubt it, because his eyelids are drooping, and he always gets sleepy post-orgasm. “We didn’t see it.”

“Invisible come…” Tetsurou muses thoughtfully, and then his eyes widen. “Is it on my face? Shit, that’s gross.”

Keiji rolls his eyes, pulling off Tetsurou and laying down on the bed beside him.

“I’m sure you’ll live,” he says, closing his eyes, “Now close the curtains, I’m going to sleep.”

“Did we tire you out, old man?” Tetsurou teases, but he’s rolling into him, head burying into his shoulder, and Keiji knows he’s tired too. He throws an arm around Tetsurou’s waist, and they both yell when Koutarou throws himself on top of them, sinking into the middle.

“You said it was hot,” Koutarou says petulantly when Tetsurou growls, and Keiji swats through him.

“We said it was gross.”

Koutarou shrugs, settling in anyway, and Keiji sighs, knowing he should shower but not being able to bring himself to move. It’s like the weight of three people’s exhaustion is pulling him in, and he falls asleep with the curtains still open, not caring for the headache he’ll wake up with in the morning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kastronetic/) or [tumblr](http://fukurokeiji.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm hoping to update this fortnightly; please stick with me for the ride! you can also find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kastronetic) or [tumblr](http://fukurokeiji.tumblr.com/).


End file.
